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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25285165">I'd Never Call You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveismyrevolution/pseuds/Loveismyrevolution'>Loveismyrevolution</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drunk John, Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Tumblr Prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:53:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,413</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25285165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveismyrevolution/pseuds/Loveismyrevolution</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What a stupid idea of Greg's. It would be far too embarrassing for John to call Sherlock and confess his feelings and desires for the man.<br/>John would never do that, would he?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>293</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic was inspired by <a href="https://inevitably-johnlocked.tumblr.com/post/623447743238701056/so-i-was-bored-and-decided-to-go-on-omegle-spy">this prompt on tumblr</a>. These silly little bunnies keep distracting me. You know... there are things I have to do... actual real life things... important things... And what am I doing instead? Drunk love confessions! All I have to say is: priorities, folks, priorities...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a dreadfully boring evening.</p><p>Sherlock sat in his chair and tried to be interested in the he-didn’t-even-know-what-it-was-about-book he had randomly picked from their shelves. He always pretended to be glad when John was out, or at least that he didn’t mind. But honestly? He hated it. What even was the point of not being here?</p><p>Today he was out with Lestrade “for a pint”. Ridiculous term, that. A pint of what? Could be anything. Why not say beer? And why a pint when it never was a pint. No-one ever bothered to properly measure it, he was certain. God, he was bored.</p><p>To make it all worse John took his time today. Sherlock wondered why he had to meet Lestrade outside of work at all. What did he talk about with Lestrade that he couldn’t just tell Sherlock? Everything Lestrade had to offer had to do with cases of which Sherlock knew much in more detail anyway. And he could just as well have “a pint” at home. Sherlock would even measure it for him. If needs must Lestrade would be allowed to stay for a moment as well. Damnit, what was taking him so long? Sherlock would much rather pretend to read with John sitting across from him pretending to read as well. So much more fun.</p><p>The front door opened and from the time it took John to insert the key into the slot Sherlock deduced that there wouldn’t be an evening with John after all. Great. At least he was home; the boredom was much more bearable this way.</p><p>True to Sherlock's suspicion John came stumbling up the stairs. Apparent in the non-rhythm of his footfalls, he had a hard time to take steady steps and not tumble down again. He held onto the handrail for dear life, if the groaning of the wood was anything to go by, but managed to make it up to the landing eventually. Sherlock already wondered if John planned to hibernate in front of the living room door when the man eventually came into sight. Jesus Christ, the man was completely sloshed. There were different stages of John-Watson-drunkenness. This state was called “Is it a man or is it a zombie?”.</p><p>John wobbled over to the bathroom without acknowledging Sherlock, who was impressed that John still knew the way. The flush indicated that he was also still able to use the loo for business it was created for and the splashing water told the same for the tap. Fascinated, Sherlock watched him making his way back and calculated in his mind how long it would take John to get up the stairs. See, so much more entertaining when John was at home. All boredom was instantly forgotten.</p><p>Passing Sherlock, John suddenly addressed him. Sherlock hadn’t been sure he had even been aware of his presence.</p><p>“Hey m-m-mate, … tell Ssshherlock ‘m home if you see h’m, yeah?”</p><p>Okay, not aware after all then. John didn’t wait for an answer from his “mate” and soldiered on to conquer the stairs. The bedroom door banged shut, the bedsprings creaked, the flat was silent.</p><p>‘Ladies and gentlemen, you just witnessed the fabulous Blogger-Doctor-Captain Watson in the wild. Yes, he is my friend. No, sometimes I don’t know why.’</p><p>Sighing, Sherlock was already about to call it a day, when suddenly his mobile rang. Lestrade? Now? If he was in a somewhat similar state to John's he’d better not work. Sherlock fished out his phone, took the call without looking at the screen while continuing his way to the bedroom.</p><p>“Yes? Lestrade?” he barked.</p><p>“No. What? Wait…” rustling on the line, “Why are you Greg?” he heard John slur into the speaker.</p><p>“John?”</p><p>“No… you can’ be Jjjohn. Becaus’ tha’s meee.” He giggled. “I think…”</p><p>Sherlock rolled his eyes. It was even worse than he had expected. Sherlock already grieved all the innocent brain cells dying right this moment.</p><p>“Yes. You’re John. Apparently. Why are you calling me?”</p><p>“Acshually I wanted to call Ssshherlock. But only to tell h’m I won’ call h’m. Becaus’ that wasss a silly idea of yours, Greg.”</p><p>Sherlock was at a loss. What was all this about?</p><p>“No, John. This is Sherlock.”</p><p>“Ssshherlock? Why do you have Greg’s phone?”</p><p>Sherlock gave it up. This was a hopeless case. He rubbed his forehead. Why had he wanted John back again?</p><p>“Doesn’t matter,” he just said and already meant to hang up when John started talking more earnestly.</p><p>“Good. Good. Anyway… I’m not callin’ you is what I wanted to say. Becaus’ that was a really ssstupid idea. Why would I call you and tell you that you’re gorgeous? You have a mirror, right?” John giggled in highest notes.</p><p>What? Sherlock frowned.</p><p>“John? Are you alright?”</p><p>“I don’ know… maybe if you kiss me. Would you kiss me Ssshherlock? I would very much like to kiss you. Very very much. On your mouth. With those lips you have. And Greg thought I should tell you. On the phone. Becaus’ I’m a coward. But I’m not doin’ that Ssshherlock. You can bet your life on it… no better not do that. Stuuupid idea. Although… I would never dare to anyway. I would have to look you in the eye again, right. In your eyes… your eyessss… Ssshhherlock, why do you have those eyes? They’re not good… not good for my consen.. concen...tration. And then you get angry, because I didn’ list’n, but i’s your own fault, you know. Just stop lookin’ so damn hot allll the time. But you can’t, can you? Can’ help those cheekbones. And that arse. Goooooood, Ssshherlock, your aaaarse. You can help those bloody trousers you know. Do they have to be soooo tight? And the ssshirts? You can help the ssshirts too. They’re driving me nuts you know? But I’d never tell you! Greg really is insane. Jus’ imagine if I’d call you and then maybe you’d stop wearing them. I’m not that dumb, nooooo!”</p><p>For the first time Sherlock had the chance to interrupt John's rambling. His heart was doing funny things in his chest, as did his voice when he spoke, but John apparently didn’t mind.</p><p>“Uhm, John. You are calling me now, you know that, don’t you?”</p><p>“Noooo, I’m callin’ Greg. You said so yourself, Ssshherlock. He better not speak to you either. Tell h’m that I’ll kill h’m if he spills anythin’ I told h’m tonight. You’re never allowed to know that I dream about you. Maybe I’ll dream about you tonight? What do you think, Ssshherlock? Do you know that I dream about you? Did you deduce who I’m thinkin’ about… when I’m wankin’ in the shower… in the mornin’? Ha, forget it, I’ll never tell you! Never! I’m not crazy!”</p><p>Sherlock was sure that his mind had short circuited and his heart had a meltdown and that was the reason why he couldn’t speak. Problem was, it seemed that John wasn’t finished yet. He’d definitely not survive this.</p><p>“But it’s haaaard, you know? Hahaha… hard… did you hear that. Yes, you can say that, hard hard hard it isss… bein’ around you all day and you not knowin’. And I have to watch you and smell you… can you walk a bit closer next time, Ssshherlock? I can never smell you good enough… is a pity, becaus’ you smell fuckin’ amaaaazin’. But I can’t ask you of course. That would be weird, wouldn’ it? ‘Can you please walk a bit closer, Ssshherlock?’” he mimicked with a lower voice, “ha, ridiculous. ‘d never do that.”</p><p>Sherlock cleared his throat, he had to stop John before it got even worse. But somehow he couldn’t bring himself to just cut the line. He couldn’t do that to John Watson, could he? That would be extremely impolite; to end a call, just so…</p><p>“John…” he croaked.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah I know,” John sighed. “It’s a damn pity. All that ssexiness wasted. If only you’d know about all the thingsss I want to do to you. Hell, Ssshherlock, we’d never leave this bed again.”</p><p>Okay, this was enough, too much. He had to stop this. Now! However, the phone was glued to his ear and his thumb apparently didn’t remember where to find the red speaker button.</p><p>“What did Greg think? That I’d jus’ tell you all this? He really is an idiot, Ssshherlock, you were right! But then... you aaalways are. You’re jus’ brilliant! The brilliantestest person I’ve ever known. Brillianter than Mycroft. And more beautiful. Much more. The beautifullestest! Of all, Ssshherlock! I want to watch you aaalllll day. But you’d notice and we can’ have that, right? You’d deduce my thoughtsss and then you would be appalllled. Of me.”</p><p>Sherlock was already halfway up the stairs to John’s room and hurried to get there. His phone still tightly pressed against his ear. Who knew, maybe John would call for help or anything. He couldn’t miss that. That would be irresponsible, to deny a friend in need. Ohhhh, wrong train of thought…</p><p>“Becaus’ I don’ ev’n know what thingsss you like Sherlock. Do you like thingsss at all? I never hear you or sssomething. I tried you know, really hard, haha… hard… but I never heard you. Pity.” John said when Sherlock arrived in front of his door. Sherlock threw the door open the moment John asked, “Do you hear me when I’m wankin’ here upstairsss?”</p><p>Sherlock stood in the open door, panting, because of the jog up the stairs, obviously. John looked at him with glassy eyes, one hand holding the phone to his ear, one hand down his trousers which he had still on.</p><p>“Yes, I hear you.” Sherlock said. He didn’t know if John realised that he had answered his question.</p><p>“Oh, Ssshherlock. You’re hooome.” John said, phone sliding from his ear. He grabbed it again and said into the speaker, “Ssshherlock? Sssorry, I have to hang up, you’re home. Tell Greg he has the mos’ stupid ideas!”</p><p>He hung up and dropped the phone to the floor. Then beamed up at Sherlock with the widest grin Sherlock had ever seen.</p><p>“See, tha’s why I would never call you. Would be embarrassssing to look you in the eye right now. Right? God, your eyesss, Ssshherlock…” John slurred.</p><p>His eyelids dropped and stayed shut a second too long. Almost falling asleep then. Was to be expected. Actually it was a miracle that he wasn’t comatose already. His eyes popped open again and Sherlock felt himself caught staring at John, but the man himself apparently didn’t notice. Which was to be expected as well. John looked at him with the most adoring gaze.</p><p>“Thank God, I didn’ call you. Right, Ssshherlock?” He said, looking Sherlock straight in the eye.</p><p>“Yes, John. Thank God.” Sherlock said quietly.</p><p>“See.” mumbled John and closed his eyes.</p><p>Not even a second later there was a slight snoring coming from the man on the bed and Sherlock was left befuddled in his mind and half hard in his pants.</p><p>How was he supposed to survive the next morning?  </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sherlock would never tell John if he had called him last night, too drunk to even remember all the things he had said. Of course that would also mean that John would never get to know how much Sherlock would like to kiss him as well. That however would be a shame, wouldn't it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dear readers,</p><p>thank you all for liking my drunk John so much! It brings me so much joy to know that he made you laugh and root for him.<br/>Now a new day is dawning and it also slowly dawns on John that something is wrong. If only he'd know what it is. Let's see if he finds out...</p><p>Thank you all for being here!<br/>Sending you lots of love and happiness,<br/>me 💕</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John mused about the meaning and purpose of life in general and his own in particular. Because right now he sincerely doubted that there was any. He’d probably die anyway, most likely within the next five minutes. Why did he even wake up? He had not even opened his eyes yet and he already knew that this day was gonna be hell. He didn’t just feel like hit by a truck; rather by… a meteorite?  </p><p>At least he was in his own bed. Still dressed though, which probably meant he had passed out the moment he had set foot into his bedroom. Probably. He couldn’t know for sure because he didn’t remember anything beyond the umpteenth pint. What he <em> did </em>remember though was that the conversation with Greg had unintentionally drifted into waters which he’d much rather drown in right now than face. Deep deep waters, he’d never have dipped a toe in if it weren’t for the awfully sweet pinkish something drink the guy next to them had treated them to; winking at them and wishing them “fun” when he had left and saying that he’d “much rather stay and join them”. Thank God, John’s memory reached as far as the man leaving. John only hoped he hadn’t come back though. Which reminded him again of the “subject” of their talk. The subject he’d have to face soon-ish. Right after he managed to peel himself out of bed and descend the stairs without ending up in ER because of multiple broken bones. </p><p>John desperately hoped that Greg had reached the state of alcohol induced amnesia much earlier than he himself had. If not, John had to let Sherlock know that due to personal circumstances he’d unfortunately had to stop working Yard-ish cases with him, because… how was he supposed to look Greg in the eye ever again? Let alone in Sherlock’s company? That said… thought… whatever… how was he supposed to look <em> Sherlock </em> in the eye again? Well, at least the man wasn’t aware of his role in yesterday’s illustrious pub-talk.</p><p>Well then, there was nothing to it; his bladder screamed for attention and he felt no desire to ignore it. That desire arose in an instant the moment he moved as much as his little toe. Hell, he had known it. <em> Hell. </em> To see the good in it; it <em> was </em> an opportunity to get used to life in hell. Eventually, when he died, he’d end up there anyway. Approximately in about five minutes. Or rather right this instant, he decided after having moved more than just his toe. He realised that his desire to ignore his bladder wasn't the only thing that had risen. However, to ignore <em> this </em> kind of desire was much harder. Jesus Fucking Christ, not even in power-saving mode did his brain spare him from terrible puns. He <em> had </em>to get up first though, otherwise he would embarrass himself. Although, he would do so no matter which way. Getting up wasn’t exactly the better option when one lived together with the most observant human being to ever walk the earth. Maybe, if he was able to sneak past Sherlock, the man wouldn’t notice. This plan was considered impossible the moment John accomplished a vertical position. In no way could any kind of sneaking be achieved. </p><p>On his journey from bed- to bathroom he tried to come up with a plan, but the required thinking app didn’t seem to work properly in power-saving mode. Apparently, neither did his senses because he ran straight into Sherlock when he went through the kitchen door and rounded the corner to head in the direction of the bathroom. The suddenness and his muddled mind made him jolt and doused any traitorous and telling physical states. </p><p>“Oh, hey. Hi.” Jesus, what had happened to his voice? He cleared his throat. </p><p>“Uhm… yeah… hi.” Sherlock’s voice was a bit off, too. Had he been drinking, as well? And… ‘hi’? Did he just say ‘hi’? </p><p>John abandoned his steadying fixing stare on the floor for a steadying hand on the wall to be able to study Sherlock's face. Not that he would be able to draw any conclusions right now though.</p><p>“I feel a bit like shite.” He said, voice still raspy. “A lot like shite actually. I think I had a bit too much yesterday.”</p><p>“I gathered as much.” Sherlock said neutrally.</p><p>John rubbed his neck. God, his head was killing him. He looked forward to a glorious breakfast of preferably a bucket of coffee, black no milk, toast with nothing and a whole pack of paracetamol.</p><p>“What time did I get home?” John asked. “I can’t remember…”</p><p>“I’m not sure.” was Sherlock’s evasive response and he sounded somehow… relieved? John frowned.</p><p>“Didn’t hear me then?” He wondered aloud.</p><p>“Maybe. Can be… can’t remember,” Sherlock stammered. John squinted his eyes, suspicious now. Sherlock Holmes didn’t stammer.</p><p>“Sherlock, everything okay?" He asked, cautiously.</p><p>"Yes! Of course! Absolutely. Fine. Everything's fine!" The man nodded frantically.</p><p>Well, that was not exactly what John would call 'fine'. Anything but actually...</p><p>"Did anything… dunno… happen yesterday?” He inquired. What could possibly have happened yesterday? He felt horror rise.</p><p>“NO! Of course not! No! Why would it?” That... had been too fast, too many words and too loud a voice to be a simple ‘No’. John felt his stomach drop. Which was more of a tumble right now, churning as it was anyway. </p><p>“Sherlock? You wouldn’t keep something from me, right?” He asked; the wobble of his knees somehow transferring to his voice. The mysteries of human anatomy.</p><p>“Absolutely not! I’d never do that!” Sherlock said. </p><p>And that was what did John in! Something in what Sherlock had said stirred a whole thunderstorm of emotions in him, of which the main one was the wish for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. What? Had? Happened? John wanted to know but didn’t want to know and didn’t know what he wanted. All he knew was, he couldn’t ask Sherlock.</p><p>“Well, I’ll just…” He said, pointing towards the bathroom, “I’ll go take a shower, will take a while though...”</p><p>There was a small whimper coming from Sherlock, who turned and headed in high-speed towards the living room. Somehow, that didn’t help one bit to ease John’s mind.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>When he came out of the shower, Sherlock was gone. There was a note on the kitchen table. ‘Case’ it said; so John settled with his cup of coffee and tried to sufficiently caffeinate his brain to start any thinking process. When his remaining brain cells finally started to stir he jumped up from his chair and regretted it the moment the jackhammer in his head picked up its work again. In horror he looked at the clock. Damndamndamn… he had totally forgotten that he had taken over a late shift at the surgery today. How was he supposed to work in this state? How and why had he gotten himself in this state in the first place when he had to work the next day? But then, the initial plan hadn’t included pinkish drinks and precarious talks which required even more drinks. A lot more drinks. Bugger. He considered calling in sick, but then he had only taken the shift over because of a coworker being sick and a major staff shortage. <em> Damn damn damn damn </em><em>DAMN.</em></p><p>All things regarding Sherlock and evading answers and whimpers forgotten, John hurried to work. He made it just in time, immediately picked the first patient’s file from the receptionist’s desk on his way to his office and had no spare time to give any attention to his headache or to think or to breathe for the next couple of hours. The moment his last patient left the room, he sagged into the chair behind his desk and took a deep breath. He shouldn’t have done that, because apparently his head came to the conclusion that if there was time for breathing there was time for headache and there was time for thinking as well. He let his forehead bump on the tabletop and groaned. He wondered if there by any chance was something even more effective than dying. Like vanishing. Or like never having existed in the first place. </p><p>He realised that he hadn’t heard anything from Sherlock the entire day, which was extremely untypical when Sherlock was on a case without him. Normally, Sherlock would inform him about every important and not so important and absolutely useless little detail. John checked his phone, but there was not a single message. To be sure that he hadn’t missed anything, he also checked for missed calls and frowned. There was an outgoing call to Sherlock last night. An <em> answered </em> call <em> late </em> last night that was. Had he called Sherlock to pick him up perhaps? No, why would he with the man having no car. Also, the call had been much too long for a short request. </p><p>John felt sheer dread rise and freeze his insides. Greg. He heard a far away echo of Greg’s voice in his head. <em> “If you’re too much of a coward to look him in the eye when you tell him that you want to shag him senseless then why not just call him? Same result!” </em></p><p>Oh no. He hadn’t, had he? Holy Hell! This couldn't be true. He could never go back to Baker Street, he’d have to live under a bridge! Preferably somewhere in Africa so Sherlock wouldn’t find him! Although, if he hadn’t told Sherlock… things… during that call, it would be most unfortunate to make all the efforts to move to Africa for nothing. Problem was—there really was only one way to find out.</p><p>He opened speed dial ‘1’, pulled a face and pushed the call button. He didn’t have to wait long for Sherlock to pick up. </p><p>“Yes?” The resonating of Sherlock’s dark and rumbling voice almost made the phone vibrate in John's hand.</p><p>“Hi, uhm, it’s John here.” </p><p>“I’m glad you’re aware,” Sherlock said and John winced. This was definitely Not Good.</p><p>“Sherlock, listen, uhm…” God, the fastest one-way trip to Africa, please! “Please tell me that I’d never call you in the middle of the night, too drunk to even remember properly, to… tell you… something. That's not a thing I would do, is it?” John was aware that he practically begged Sherlock to deny it. As if that would make it any better.</p><p>“Of course not, John. You’d never do that. You’re not that stupid.” Sherlock said.</p><p><em> That </em> sounded far more familiar than it had any right to. John buried his face in the palm of his hand and groaned.</p><p>“And if so, I’d never tell you what you told me, because that would be far too embarrassing and you’d regret it and we can’t have that, can we?” Sherlock continued and sounded… what? Smug? That bastard!</p><p>“No, of course you won’t.” John mumbled.</p><p>“Furthermore, I wouldn’t risk you killing Lestrade for giving you that stupid idea in the first place, would I? You'd end up in jail and I'd lose my main source of interesting cases. That'd be a pity.” Sherlock chuckled.</p><p>“Oh God, stop it…” Suddenly John’s memory was full on back and he wanted to go up in flames from embarrassment. “Sherlock, I…” but Sherlock went on without taking a break.</p><p>"And I'd absolutely not tell you that I would like to kiss you very much, too, with these lips I have…"</p><p>"Sherlock!" John whined, "stop making fun of me. I think it's enough. Message received…" Africa, definitely Africa!</p><p>But then Sherlock's voice changed.</p><p>"If I was making fun of you," he said much more calmly, without any hint of teasing, "I'd never ask you to come home and do exactly that."</p><p>It took John a moment to remind his body that it needed oxygen, but when Breathing 2.0 had rebooted he whispered, "Sherlock?"</p><p>"Come home, John." Sherlock said softly.</p><p>
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</p><p>When he entered the house, John was painfully reminded of the previous evening. His hands refused to stop shaking, the key refused to slip into the slot. On the stairs he wondered if it were his steps or his heartbeat that sounded like the beat of bush drums.</p><p>On setting foot in the flat and laying eyes on Sherlock the dizziness of last night decided to join the party as well. </p><p>Sherlock turned. He stood at the window wearing his dressing gown. <em> Only </em>his dressing gown. </p><p>"Sherlock," John couldn't avoid the little helpless squeak escaping his mouth. </p><p>With a smug expression that was illegal in at least 190 countries, John was certain, the man slowly sauntered towards John.</p><p>"Someone complained about my dressing habits, you know?" he rumbled.</p><p>"Is that so?" John was not entirely sure what his body was doing; felt like physical nervous breakdown if such a thing existed. He had no idea, he'd have to ask a doctor if he met one.</p><p>"In particular about my trousers and shirts, and that person asked me to do something about that. I thought for once I'd be considerate and indulge them. Wouldn't want to displease that person, right?" </p><p>"No, you'd better not." John whispered, looking up at Sherlock who had reached him by now. He towered over him, tilting his head and watching him as if contemplating something. </p><p>"Hmmm," he hummed. "I'd better not kiss you then, who knows if that person would like it. What do you think?" Sherlock murmured while lowering his head, slowly carefully closing the distance.</p><p>"Then people would definitely talk," John swallowed, feeling Sherlock's whisper on his lips.</p><p>"But then people do little else…" </p><p>When their lips met, John's knees got wobbly for completely non-alcoholic reasons and his mind blanked out caused by a totally different kind of drunkenness. One more difference: he'd absolutely never forget this.</p><p>When they broke apart, both breathless and panting, John found his statement confirmed. Sherlock's eyes really were the absolutely worst for his concentration. How were people able to think around this man? Probably that was the only reason why everyone looked like an idiot next to Sherlock.</p><p>Sherlock dipped his head again and John expected a kiss. He didn't expect the heart attack Sherlock's low rumbling voice speaking directly into his ear caused him.</p><p>"And in absolutely no way, John Watson, I'd take you to bed now and show you all the thingssssss I like."</p><p>Sherlock took his hand, pulled him in the direction of his bedroom and John Watson's last remaining brain cell capitulated and packed it's bag for a long-term vacation.</p><p> </p><p>°°°°°°°°°°</p><p> </p><p>Later that night, when his fingertips were tracing circles on the sweaty skin on the back of the man cradled in his arms, John said, "I think we owe Greg a Thank You. We should give him something. Maybe a case solved completely under his name or something." John chuckled and revelled in the feeling of a warm, from laughter trembling body pressed against his side. He cherished the sensation of having the man he loved right next to him. </p><p>"Rather a lifetime supply of pints in the pub." Sherlock said between kisses on John's chest.</p><p>"No, we definitely shouldn't do <em> that. </em> He'd only get some stupid ideas again." John laughed.</p><p>"Yes, the stupidest of allllll." Sherlock answered. </p><p>And John thought his unrestrained giggles were the beautifullestest thing he had ever heard.</p><p>°°°°°°°°°°</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always, I want to thank my two lovely betas and friends <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jobooksandcoffee/pseuds/Jobooksandcoffee">Jobooksandcoffee</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleweedwrites/pseuds/littleweedwrites">littleweedwrites</a><br/>!!! Thank you both so much for encouraging me and for supporting me in my silliness!!!</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26095696">Borrowing Happiness</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc">trillian_jdc</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
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